


Measure In Love

by gleesquid



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, but also not really, spoilers but not really, the quarterback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Finn opens his eyes and meets a very familiar stranger, who brings startling news and a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measure In Love

**Author's Note:**

> For Cory Monteith, and for Finn Hudson. I will love you forever.

When Finn opens his eyes, he is staring up at a glass domed ceiling, filtered light shining upon his face. He blinks a few times, long and slow; the edges of his vision sharpen and he carefully sits up, back aching a bit, like he’d been lying on the floor for a while. The room he’s in is clean, white, and circular, with about a dozen doors lining the curved wall.

“Hey there,” a voice says in his ear.

Finn whips his head around. Beside him, a young boy crouches. He must be around nine or ten, with slanting cheekbones that still retain some baby fat, wide lips, and shaggy light brown hair, like Finn’s before he hit puberty.

“You’re . . .” Finn says, but he’s at a loss. “You’re –,”

“I’m you,” the boy says. “Well, kind of. And you’re dead. Sort of.”

“I’m dead?” Finn asks, alarmed. “But I don’t – I don’t remember –,”

“That’s ok,” the . . . little . . . Finn says. “Sometimes people remember, and sometimes they don’t. It doesn’t really matter. They’re all dead.”

Finn sighs. He thinks he should be more upset that he’s dead, but mostly he’s surprised, and even that is fading fast.

Still, one thought plagues him.

“My family – are they -?”

“They’re fine,” Little Finn says. “Well, they’re sad. They’re – more than sad. Like, _really_ sad. But they’ll get by.”

Finn knows it’s selfish, but a part of him is relieved people are mourning him. He always was kind of doubtful of how much he could mean to anyone when he’s so . . . _himself._

Little Finn must see his thoughts on his face, because he says, “They’re not the only ones you know.”

Finn glances at him.

“Your family, I mean, they’re not the only ones that miss you. A lot of people miss you actually.” Little Finn’s eyes are knowing, and kind. “You don’t believe me, do you? Here – I’ll show you.”

He holds out a hand and, hesitantly, Finn takes it, allowing the kid to help him to his feet and lead him to a door on their left. Little Finn opens it and they step out into a grassy park. The sun is bright, but the breeze is cool; light chatter mixes with a song in the background (Finn’s lips quirk when he realizes it is Journey); and altogether it seems too happy a scene for the black-clothed people milling about.

“The ceremony just ended,” Little Finn whispers, even though Finn is pretty sure no one can hear them.

Finn can see his family standing by a table that holds unlit candles – blown out by the wind probably – and framed photos of him. His heart pangs at the sight of his mom’s tired, puffy eyes, but soars at her soft smile and the way she is tucked securely against Burt. Kurt is saying something, holding hands with Blaine – and, hey, when did _that_ happen? – and Rachel is giggling at the story even as a spare tear tracks down her cheek.

In the middle of the mass of chairs set up across the grass, Puck sits, head hanging in his hands. On one side of him are Sam and Jake, and on the other side is Santana, staring off into space, even as she absently strokes his neck. By a refreshments table, Mike, Mercedes, Tina, Artie, and Kitty sip punch; and clustered in yet another group are Ryder, Unique, Marley, Sugar, and Joe. Finn’s glad they’re all getting along.

There are people he misses. Brittany, who he supposes can’t get away from MIT. Quinn, probably (hopefully) having the same problem. Rory Flanagan, who he still kept in touch with, but you know – Ireland.

Still, there are people he didn’t expect to see at all.

Sue Sylvester cradles her baby in one arm and Becky Jackson’s shoulders in the other, as she talks with Mr. Schuester, Ms. Pillsbury – uh, Mrs. Schuester, really – and Coach Beiste. There are a couple of guys from the Warblers, including Sebastian Smythe and Trent, dabbing daintily at his bloodshot eyes with a handkerchief. Dave Karofsky and his dad uncomfortably talk to Rick the Stick Nelson and a few of his hockey buddies. In the back row of seats, Finn even sees a pale Jesse St. James typing at something on his phone.

And there are more. Distant relatives and teachers from his elementary school and a couple of the guys he met at that fraternity in college and McKinley kids he knew of but never really talked to.

“All these people . . .” Finn breathes.

“They’re all here for you,” Little Finn says. “They love you.”

“Nah, they don’t,” Finn says, thinking it would be really weird if Sebastian or Jesse loved him.

“Ok, maybe not all of them,” he agrees. “But sometimes the only way to really appreciate someone is when they’re gone. And sometimes we feel like we have to appreciate them because they remind us how quickly we could be gone too.”

Finn arches an eyebrow. “I was not that smart when I was your age. I’m still not that smart.”

Little Finn smirks. “I told you I was only _sort of_ you. Now, come on.” 

“We have to go?” Finn asks. “But we just got here! I need to see –,” He looks out at the park – it’s empty. Only a sliver of the sun is visible over the far off hills. “I need to make sure that they’re . . . ok.”

Little Finn grasps his hand and they are back in the circular room.

“It would have been too hard,” Little Finn says. “Listening to them all say goodbye? That would have been too hard. Trust me.”

Finn thinks he deserves to say goodbye to them, but he nods all the same.

“They’ll be ok though?” he asks, mind lingering on his mom’s eyes, and Rachel’s tears, and Puck’s hunched shoulders.

“I already told you they would be,” Little Finn says. “But here, I’ll show you.”

They walk through one of the doors to their right this time, and wind up on a crowded sidewalk, alive with people and taxis honking and bright lights glistening under the night sky.

“New York City!” Little Finn shouts over the bustle. “Come on, we’re going to lose them!”

They pass through the crowd of people – it isn’t as if they float through them, but more that they seem to slip perfectly between open spaces – until they catch up to a group of five ahead of them.

Finn blinks at the back of their heads. “Is that -?”

“Come on, _Dad_!” a young boy whines. “Tell Papa that I’m _responsible_!”

“He’s very responsible,” a man says, laughter clear in his voice.

“I don’t care how _responsible_ he is, we are not discussing buying our five-year-old son a snake tonight!”

Finn grins and slips through the group to catch a glimpse of their faces.

Years have clearly past since the last time Finn saw them, but not too long. Kurt and Blaine must be around thirty. The gray in Finn’s mom’s hair is more prominent, as are the wrinkles around her and Burt’s eyes. Then there’s the little guy holding onto both Kurt and Blaine’s hands. He’s skinny, with styled brown hair, big blue eyes, and a proudly donned bowtie. Finn can’t imagine a kid looking more like Kurt and Blaine’s.

“WHY NOT?!” the little boy wails.

“ _Finn Hummel-Anderson!”_ Kurt says, scooping the boy into his arms. “You cannot act like that!”

Oh. Wow, ok. So there are three Finns now.

“Sorry, Papa,” the little boy says, burrowing his face into the crook of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt sighs. “It’s ok, buddy. We can talk about the snake later but you can’t throw temper tantrums every time you don’t get your way, or you never will.”

“I used to tell _him_ that,” Burt mutters to Blaine.

Finn looks down at Little Finn. “They named their son after me?”

Little Finn nods. “I imagine it was a race for who could get there first.”

Finn gulps down the knot in his throat.

The group approaches a theater; Carole starts passing out tickets.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” a rough voice calls, one Finn would know anywhere.

He turns: Puck is walking towards them, grinning in a dress shirt and slacks, with Santana and Quinn in tow.

“We would have been here sooner, but there was a meltdown about a snake,” Kurt says.

“Ah, I know them well,” smirks Puck. “Where’s the little one?”

“Artie’s watching her,” Kurt grimaces.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Kurt doesn’t trust Artie. _Or_ Sam. _Or_ Tina.”

“All your friends are menaces. Except Mike.”

“They were your friends first! And I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Kurt says, “it’s so great that you guys could make it out here for Rachel’s big night.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Quinn says.

“Maybe _you_ wouldn’t, but I’m just going because I’d never hear the end of it, if not,” says Santana with an affectionate eye roll. “Some of us have the misfortune of still living with her.”

“Get yourself hitched, and you’ll get out of it too,” Kurt winks.

“Daddy,” the little boy in Kurt’s arms mumbles, “I’m hungry.”

“Sweetheart, you just ate.”

“I’m hungry again.”

“Like his namesake, that one,” Carole says, and they all laugh.

Little Finn grasps Finn’s hand and tugs him into the theater. He casts a longing glance over his shoulder at his family and friends, but follows.

They are standing in a lavishly decorated dressing room as a woman in a robe paces, muttering to herself. Finn’s breath catches.

Rachel is still so beautiful.

“’I am not your servant! And I will _not_ run myself into the ground for you –‘ Is that the line? That’s the line, isn’t it?”

She runs to her vanity, picking up a tattered script and rifling through it hurriedly. There’s a knock on the door.

“Um, it’s open!”

A young man with a headset pokes his head through the doorway. “Ms. Berry, you’re needed on stage in five.”

“Ok.” She doesn’t take her eyes off her script. “Thank you, Charles.”

“And Ms. Berry?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to do wonderfully.”

Rachel blinks, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Charles.”

Charles nods, a hint of color at his cheeks, and ducks out.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel turns to her large vanity mirror. Finn smiles when he notices it is decorated with gold star stickers and photographs of Barbra Streisand.

“This is it, Berry,” she says seriously. “Opening night for a new American musical on _Broadway_. You were a smash as Fanny Brice . . . you’ve already proven you can do anything. Only difference is, this time more people are watching. Your whole life has led to this moment. Don’t screw it up.”

She runs her thumb over something taped to the mirror and with a jolt, Finn realizes it’s _his_ picture.

“I wish you were here,” she whispers. “You should be here.”

_I am,_ Finn thinks.

“You always knew what to say when I got like this. My pep talks pale in comparison to yours. And I just . . . I miss you so much, Finn.”

_I miss you too._

Rachel slips her robe off, revealing her costume – some sort of intricate old timey dress. She stares at her reflection for a moment, before turning for the door.

“Break a leg,” Finn can’t help saying.

Rachel pauses and looks back at Finn’s photograph, like she knows she’s forgetting something, but can’t quite recall what.

“I love you,” she finally says.

She leaves the room.

It is quiet.

“That stagehand, Charles?” Little Finn breaks the silence. “He’s awesome. Really nice. Cares about Rachel a lot. In three years, she might agree to go on a date with him.”

Finn wonders if this should make him sad. Really, he’s just happy that Rachel can find happiness again. He’s through keeping her from that, at least.

Little Finn squeezes his hand. Finn blinks and they are back in the circular room.

For a long moment, they stand there.

 “They’re happy,” Finn says.

“Not yet,” Little Finn says. “But they will be.”

Finn nods.

“A piece of them will always be with you though.”

He tries to smile. “So what are you gonna show me next?”

“That’s actually . . . kind of it. I mean, I could spend forever showing you things, but those were the only things I really needed to.”

“Why did you need to show me _those_?  They were just . . . moments.”

Little Finn thinks about it. “I kinda think moments say the most sometimes.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Finn laughs. “You really are way smarter than me.”

Little Finn grins, showing all of his crooked teeth, and for the first time since they met, Finn thinks he really looks his age.

“What do I do now?” Finn asks.

Little Finn shrugs. “You could stick around and look at some more things. All these doors lead somewhere. Or you could go.”

“Go where?”

“On.” He points at the door straight ahead, no different than the rest. “If you go through there, though, you can’t go back, and I can’t follow.”

For some reason, Finn’s eyes stick on the ordinary door.

“Do you . . . do you think Dad’s in there?” he asks. It’s strange the thought hadn’t occurred to him yet when suddenly it’s all he can focus on.

“I dunno. He could be.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Sorry.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s ok, it’s just – I’ve never really been a big risk taker, y’know? I’m more like . . . the person that convinces other people to take risks.” He swallows. “I’ve never been brave enough, or – or –,”

“Or good enough,” Little Finn finishes. “But you are, you know. You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

“Shut up, you totally stole that from Winnie the Pooh.”

“I’m ten years old! How did _you_ know it was Winnie the Pooh?”

“ _Because_ that was secretly my favorite story when _I_ was ten years old!”

They hold each other’s gazes for a long moment, before cracking up.

Still donning a smile, Finn asks, “If I leave . . . what happens to you?”

“Some of me goes with you,” Little Finn says like he’s reciting it out of a textbook, “and some of me goes somewhere else. I don’t know where yet. That’s part of the fun.”

“You want to move on,” Finn guesses.

“No one’s really meant to stick around in one place forever. But it’s your choice.”

“I’m scared,” Finn admits. He didn’t realize he was until he voiced it, but the words linger in between them, daunting and so, so real.

Little Finn’s eyes are soft as he takes Finn’s hands. “I know. But I promise you that everything’s going to be ok.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. Saying it just makes me feel better.”

“Ok,” Finn says. “Ok. I guess it’s like when I first joined New Directions. Except with less blackmail. Unless someone was blackmailed to kill me, which is actually really cool now I think about it, I hope it happened that way.”

Little Finn giggles, and Finn notices how it makes his eyes shine; he wishes he had laughed a little more when he was young, not been so embarrassed, not tried too hard to be cool, so his mom could have seen that shine.

He hopes she knows he was happy. Even though he was lost, and insecure, and scared, being with her, growing up with her – it made him _so_ happy. And with her, he never really needed a dad, but Burt made him happy too.

Little Finn leads Finn to the door. Finn grazes his fingers against the handle; it’s strangely warm, but not unpleasant. He turns to Little Finn.

“Thanks . . . for everything. I don’t how I could’ve sorted all this stuff out on my own.”

“You’re welcome. And Finn?”

Finn waits.

“I want you to know . . .” Little Finn clears his throat. He breathes in deeply, turns those, big, shining brown eyes on his older counterpart. “I want you to know that I am really proud of you.”

Finn’s heart clenches even as he lets out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Why? All I ever did was mess things up.”

Little Finn shakes his head. “No. You made mistakes, but you always tried your hardest to make them better. And you cared about things, and people, and you loved so much, with such a big heart . . .” Their eyes meet again. “And you are the best man I ever could have hoped to grow into.”

Finn can’t hold back any longer – hot tears leak out of his eyes. Little Finn throws his arms around his waist; he holds him close, warmth spreading through his body into Little Finn’s and out into the air, wrapping around the duo like a giant hug.

But they can’t stay here forever, and it’s over too soon – they pull away, not even bothering to wipe their eyes because what does it matter at this point? There is no one to keep up pretenses against. It’s new for Finn, but not bad. The opposite actually. He feels . . . free.

“So. Guess it’s time to go,” Finn says.

“Guess so.”

“See ya, little man.”

“See ya, big man!” Little Finn grins.

Finn gives him one final, genuine half-smile, drinking in the sight of his younger self with the near identical expression and vivid, hopeful eyes. He doesn’t know where this kid is headed, but he hopes it’s somewhere awesome.

The doorway begins to glow a faint gold, beckoning. He’s made his choice; there’s no turning back, and Finn finds he doesn’t really want to. He’s ready.

In the back of his mind there is the hazy image of a sixteen-year-old kid rescuing a nerdy guy in a wheelchair from a port-a-potty and going back to a lame glee club because maybe he is so sick of hiding or maybe he just wants to feel something for a change; so he takes a risk and steps through a door, having no idea at all if it will be worth it.

(It is.)


End file.
